


at a (un)reasonable distance

by vroomvroommic



Series: let it happen [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto and Atsumu are horrible party planners, Established Relationship, M/M, New Year's Parties and whatnot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28475100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vroomvroommic/pseuds/vroomvroommic
Summary: On Osamu's end-of-the-year shitlist: Akaashi's shit boss, Atsumu and Bokuto's bad party planning, the delayed flight keeping him from his boyfriend.Suna: there's just two bros chilling on a couch 5 centimeters apart cos they ARE gay.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: let it happen [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085657
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	at a (un)reasonable distance

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is im sorry for any mistakes
> 
> akaashi's [ringtone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pE2D3LWADFg&ab_channel=Doudy94) for osamu and also the song from the title weeeeeee

“Which one?” Atsumu asks, staring at his reflection go back and forth between a marled zip up sweater and a navy hoodie he’d bought earlier this week in Omotesando. Osamu hadn’t gone with him because of work, but it’d been all Atsumu had talked about over tonkatsu curry that night.

“I can’t believe yer ass would even contemplate wearin’ a hoodie over a button down,” Osamu says after clicking his tongue and goes back to reading the new update on his favorite up-and-coming manga series. Akaashi’d mentioned it a few months while laying together on Osamu’s bed, fingers intertwined, softly telling Osamu how excited his colleague had been about it getting serialized.

From the full-length mirror on the other side of the room, Atsumu snarls before turning to face Osamu. “Fuck ya!” His expression sours, realizing his mistake. “I’m not gonna listen’ta someone who can’t even dress. Forget I even asked.”

“Dramatic ass,” Osamu mumbles as he re-reads the character dialogue on the page for the fifth time, hoping that this time he’ll retain something.

He’s successful for a few seconds before Atsumu’s talking again, as annoying and loud as ever.

“Ya have the address, right?”

Exasperated and resigned, Osamu leaves the page open in the app before locking his phone. “Ya asked me to cater yer party ‘n I just came back from dropping off the food, no?” Realization seems to settle in Atsumu’s brain, his older twin looking away in embarrassment.

Osamu’s exhausted; catering Atsumu and Bokuto’s joint New Year’s party was the absolute last thing he’d like to be doing the last few days of his year. He’d been hesitant, envisioning a peaceful two-week vacation alongside Keiji until the editor had been informed of a last-minute trip to Western Japan.

(“I’m really sorry,” Akaashi apologized, rubbing his warm cheek against Osamu’s shoulder on their flight to Osaka. The hum of the engines had drowned out the beating of his heart; even after a year of being together, Osamu never seemed truly prepared for Akaashi Keiji’s endless repertoire of endearing gestures. “We’ll at least have this weekend together. And we still have a few days to spend together when the new year does roll around.”

“It’s not yer fault,” Osamu’d reassured him.

Rather than get lost in his own petulant emotions, Osamu had opted to make the best out of their trip to Osaka. In the past year, Akaashi had become one of the most valuable people in Osamu’s life and it felt like a vivid dream to be able to spend time with him in a city he’d learn to love while on his own. He’d taken Akaashi to his school’s campus, the kushikatsu chain he loved at Umeda Station, and even the manga store next to Kita’s favorite idol store. Akaashi had simply followed, eyes akin to the bright Doyamacho lights at nighttime. Osamu wonders if love _looks_ like Akaashi’s eyes whenever they’re together.)

“Earth to Samu!” Atsumu yells from his room, snapping Osamu out his thoughts.

“What?” yells back the question with the same intensity, feeling his veins pulse with an all-too-familiar irritation.

“We’re super late. Are ya ready to go?” His voice rings louder, feet padding heavily against the wood floor until they’re in the same room once more. Atsumu seems to be hit with a thought, as rare as that may seem, because he’s opening his mouth, closing it, and opening it once more finally speaking:

“Has Keiji texted ya he’s back?”

Osamu frowns, pretends he doesn’t pout but Atsumu’s too good and sees him do it anyway. “No,” Osamu replies at the same time Atsumu bursts into laughter.

“Dude, dude—are ya sulkin’? This is so embarassin’,” Atsumu teases, pulling out his phone to snap a photo before he stops dead in his tracks. “Wait, are ya sure?”

“Whaddya mean ‘are ya sure’? As if I’m not fuckin’ glued to my phone.” He’s sulking again and he hates it. Osamu promises to keep himself in check the moment he sees Akaashi.

“This is fuckin’ hilarious. Ya haven’t seen each other in like, what? Three days? And yer dyin’!”

“It’s been’a week. Mind yer fuckin’ business,” Osamu mutters, putting on his coat as he works the apartment door open.

“I jus’ wanna know if my brother-in-law is home safely!” Atsumu argues, earning him a kick to his shin.

“I really fuckin’ hate ya.”

🍙🍙🍙

Six-year-old Atsumu is boring holes at the unmalleable clump of rice in his tiny hands. Osamu stares at him with a bit of concern, but he’s more prideful in the fact that his onigiri is coming out the shape he’d imagined. Maybe it’s the jealousy, maybe it’s the smell that still lingers in the air of the onion their grandmother had been cutting a few minutes ago, but Osamu notices his older twin’s eyes watering.

Their grandma seems to sense his distress because she’s peering down at them, setting the rice down on her clean cutting board.

“Oh, sweet Atsumu, that’s okay.” She takes Atsumu’s much, _much_ smaller hands in her own, gently prying them open and taking the rice into her hands. Carefully, she puts it back into the bowl with the rest of the rice and rice vinegar mixture. “Whenever you have shapes you don’t really like, just remember that you can start over.” Osamu looks at his own onigiri, suddenly not as satisfied as he had been with the shape before also returning it to the bowl of rice.

“Start over?” Atsumu asks with a lisp created by the space between his two front teeth.

Their grandma simply smiles, old yet experienced hands working at the new ball of rice in her hands. Her fingers move deftly, creating each dimension of the onigiri with expertise that Osamu only identifies later on at a much older age as _life_.

“That’s what we do, sweetie.”

“Gran,” Osamu says this time, tiptoeing around the table to get a better look at the woman’s hands. “Do ya really like to make food?”

She doesn’t pause her molding, instead sets down the finished onigiri before grabbing another handful of rice to begin molding.

“I love cooking,” she says with a smile that has her eyes closing. She looks so happy in that moment; Osamu wants to be happy like that all the time.

“But I think my favorite thing about cooking is getting to see people I love try my cooking. Their reactions give me motivation to keep on doing it.”

“I wanna make lots of food!” Atsumu states proudly, and Osamu agrees with him in his head.

“I wanna see people I love try my food,” Osamu adds after a heartbeat, his grandma’s brilliant smile beaming down warmly at him.

🍙🍙🍙

“Leave it to you to be late to the same party you organized,” Kuroo Tetsuro greets them in white suit that makes feel Osamu underdressed. Atsumu’s thoughts come to the same conclusion because now _he’s_ sulking.

It’s a huge apartment in the middle of Shibuya, and only someone as rich as Kuroo’s internet-famous friend can afford anything like this. From across the larger apartment, Osamu hears Bokuto laughing before his eyes land on the man that’s animatedly speaking to a small crowd of people who are all staring at him with tears of laughter in their eyes.

“Wait, why’d ya dress so good?” the older twin asks Kuroo, seeming genuinely hurt that he’s been outdone at his own party.

Osamu doesn’t get the opportunity to listen to Kuroo’s response because his eyes meet Suna’s slightly surprised ones. “Oi, Suna!” Osamu yells even though he doesn’t have to, comfortable grin tugging at his lips. Suna’s standing alongside Aran and Kita who are too busy to spot Osamu yet.

Once he’s crossed over to the other side of the apartment, Suna goes in for the hug with a strong clap on Osamu’s back. He lingers, his closest friend gripping him a bit tighter than usual. “It’s good to see not-pixelated you in person,” Suna jokes and Osamu only acknowledges his words with a small smile, returning the hug’s intensity.

“Same here.”

The party’s bigger than anything Osamu’d pictured when preparing the guests’ ojubako. No one came to these things anyway, too busy with family and traveling across the country or abroad. He’d normally be in Hyogo with his parents and his grandma, had it not been for their last-minute trip to Thailand before the holidays even began. In a sense, the stars had aligned to make sure he’d spend the first set of many holidays with Akaashi. Osamu frowns thinking of his boyfriend.

Akaashi Keiji who wasn’t here and hadn’t contacted him all evening.

(“I can always meet your loved one next year,” his grandma had reassured him over the phone.

Osamu thinks of the nights he, Keiji, and his grandma can spend molding onigiri and pitching business ideas for the future Onigiri Miya. “Yeah, he’d love that. Don’t show’im our baby pictures, though.” Osamu waits for her reaction over his significant other being a _man_ , attempts to categorize any silence as hesitancy. He doesn’t get to contemplate it any further because his thoughts are cut short when his grandma lets out the loudest laugh.

“No deal.”)

“Where’s Akaashi?” Kita asks, using polite honorifics to reference him which makes Osamu blink; it’d been so long since he’d heard Keiji’s name in such a manner, smiling to himself at how far they’d come.

“He was catchin’ a flight back from Fukuoka, but his flight got delayed. Should be back by now,” Osamu mutters, putting his chopsticks down before checking his phone. Still nothing.

For as big as this three-story apartment in Shibuya is, Osamu rolls his eyes at the lack of tables for dining and thinks it’s probably Atsumu and Bokuto’s fault. Definitely their fault. Aran is looking at Osamu thoughtfully, piecing information together.

With the same look, he finally asks, “so he’s not here but he’s in Tokyo?”

Another frown and Osamu hates feeling like this. “I don’t know.”

“You’re useless,” Suna says after a beat, rolling his eyes and digging his chin into the palm of his hands. He’s always had atrocious table manners. “Why haven’t you just called him to see if he’s okay?”

Osamu’s brain fizzles out, eyes focused on the jubako he’d set aside to share between him and Akaashi. The colors of the food are beautiful, the containers Osamu’d picked out for the ojubako have intricate floral patterns on equally beautiful apricot trees. Osamu had also chosen the foods based off his love for them over the years, focusing on a few dishes he and Keiji liked to eat together after a long day’s work. _Keiji_.

“Oh,” he says quietly before excusing himself away from the table and walking toward a relatively quiet corner with a few men he recognizes from his volleyball days. They bow at him when they notice him, wordlessly inching away to give him more space before returning to their conversation. Osamu’s thankful.

Unlocking his phone, he’s met with Keiji’s blinding smile as his home screen and he’s so embarrassed at the reddening blush on his cheeks that it slips in his hands; Osamu luckily catches it in midair. Too annoyed with himself, Osamu quickly opens his contact directory before hitting the call icon next to Akaashi’s name.

Somewhere in the vicinity, the familiar chorus of one of Osamu’s favorite city pop songs begins to play loud enough to recognize over the electronic music Atsumu’s surely haggled the DJ into playing. Osamu’s heartbeat picks up, ears ringing at the sudden change but still focusing on the music.

“Osamu?”

Keiji looks ethereal under the apartment lights, dressed in a beautifully knit gray turtleneck underneath a black blazer. It’s too casual to be a part of Keiji’s work wardrobe, and it makes Osamu smile to see him shopping for different kinds of clothes.

“Keiji.” It sounds like a sigh to his ears, probably is, but Osamu’s just so happy to be standing a few feet away from his boyfriend. “Yer here.” His heart rings in his ears.

Osamu notices that there’s no bags underneath his eyes, but Keiji looks tired, most likely strung out from having his flight delayed a few hours and being in the hectic atmosphere of multiple airports on New Year’s Eve. “Sorry I didn’t get to call you or anything,” he says apologetically, Osamu can hear it in his voice, “my phone’s battery died, and I only managed to charge my phone while I was changing at my apartment just now.” As if Osamu wouldn’t believe him, Akaashi lifts his phone screen to show Osamu his one percent battery life.

“Put that away,” Osamu says, swatting Keiji’s phone away and bringing his thumb and middle finger to wrap around his wrist. Keiji gasps at the sudden contact, but immediately lets his arm fall wherever Osamu wants to lead him. “Yer kinda offend me thinkin’ I don’t believe ya.” He says it with a smile that has Keiji relaxing even more in his soft grip.

“Samu!” Suna yells to get his attention, inadvertently interrupting the tender moment, the man holding two jubako while doing so. Aran and Kita are making their way up a spiral staircase as people finish coming down, Suna tilting his head in their direction to get them to follow.

“Let’s get ya fed.”

The second floor is far less crowded and loud, Osamu’s brain once again recognizing some faces but recalling not a single name. Aran and Kita are already sitting at the open end of a chaise lounge by the wide glass window looking down at the hectic Shibuya traffic. Suna’s bending down to join them, giving Osamu and Akaashi one last wave to signal their location. Osamu’s fingers are still wrapped around Akaashi’s wrist, but Osamu doesn’t say anything and no one else does. Osamu lets go once they’re near their friends.

“Sorry we moved. Some fellas wanted to eat n’ we offered the table,” Kita explains.

“Kita, Aran, and Suna.” Akaashi bows and Osamu rolls his eyes at him. “It’s always nice to see you again.”

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Aran chuckles quietly, Kita flashing Akaashi a rare yet warm smile. Suna remains silent, only nods at Keiji, but his eyes are dancing in amusement and it’s odd to see Suna respect a stranger so quickly.

“Glad yer finally here. Hope the journey wasn’t so bad,” Kita says before the interaction dies down and the Inarizaki players go back to their conversation. Osamu wonders how long it’ll take a buzzed Atsumu to find them here.

Osamu and Keiji are at the other end of the chaise lounge; there’s not enough space and Keiji would probably feel uncomfortable if he sat next to Suna, so Osamu makes sure to take that available spot.

“I don’t want you to be squished between us either,” Akaashi says, adjusting his glasses before sitting on the armrest of the couch.

Osmau looks at the rigid posture in Akaashi’s back, the way his fingers are twiddling nervously in his lap as he pretends to be busy. “That looks uncomfortable ‘n won’t do,” Osamu says as much, reaching out to grab Akaashi’s left leg and bring it onto his lap. Akaashi yelps quietly, digging his elbow slightly into Osamu’s side as a warning to be careful but Osamu doesn’t really care.

Perhaps everyone else at the party may be, but they’re not famous and beyond the people that matter in his private life, Osamu doesn’t really care what any of them think. He’s told all the people that matter, and coincidentally, they’re all here celebrating the incoming year with him. “It’s okay… unless ya…?”

“No, I’m okay. Just, you know more people here than…”

Akaashi frowns but otherwise presses closer to him, their shoulders now touching. He’s probably sliding off the arm rest or trying to keep a steady balance and Osamu curses how stubborn Akaashi can be sometimes.

“Oh. Here, Samu,” Suna interrupts again before he’s pushing the jubako into Osamu’s free hand. “I figure Akaashi’s hungry.” He doesn’t say anything else, turning away and leaving them in their own little world.

“Oh? Is this what Atsumu had you do while I was away?”

“Yeah, that annoyin’ fuck. I only said yes ‘cos Bokuto asked with puppy eyes,” Osamu sighs, hand leaving Akaashi’s calf before removing the sealed chopsticks from their packaging and rubbing the excess shavings off.

“Not Bokuto’s puppy eyes,” Akaashi hums while shaking his head, focusing on the movement of Osamu’s expert fingers picking up a slice of datemaki with the chopsticks. Osamu brings the piece of food up to Keiji’s face, looking up expectantly at his slightly surprised boyfriend.

Wordlessly, Akaashi takes the signal and opens his mouth, the datemaki piece disappearing before he’s thoughtfully chewing. “This is delicious.” He’s not even finished chewing, cheeks still full, but he’s already giving Osamu a thumb-up verdict with his eyes closed. Osamu commits the image to memory.

“Yeah?” Osamu picks up a piece of the kamaboko with salmon roe once Keiji’s done, feeding it the man once more. “Try this one. It’s my first time preparin’ it.”

Akaashi does, tries all the things on the jubako until it’s empty and he’s commenting on how full he feels. “Everything was delicious.” Akaashi seems to taste the words he’s about to utter in the same manner he’d just been eating. “I say it after every meal and sometimes I feel it dilutes the meaning but… your food really is the best. I want to eat it for the rest of my life.” He blushes at the absolute nature of his words.

Luckily, there’s a small table adjacent to them so Osamu places the empty container on the surface before turning his body and tugging Keiji toward him. Akaashi yelps but falls snuggly into the small space between Osamu’s body and the arm rest. “Good?” asks Osamu, Akaashi’s only answer being the slight shift of his leg on Osamu’s lap.

Smiling, Osamu works his fingers at the taut muscle of Akaashi’s calf until the knots begin to dissolve and Akaashi’s leaning in closer. “I missed you a lot,” he admits into Osamu’s ear so that his words stay between them. Everyone else around them is too busy living the last hours of the year to pay them any mind.

“How’d the merger go?”

Akaashi hums when Osamu’s fingers massage over a particularly bad spot. “Good. We’ll be doing a lot more works involving translation, but I don’t mind. I think they’ll reach a deal by the end of the month. Why our little tour couldn’t wait until January, I genuinely don’t know.”

“Sorry about that,” Osamu whispers, turning his face until Akaashi’s face is only centimeters away. He wants to kiss Keiji so badly, wants to smother him in all the attention he hadn’t given him all week. Again, Osamu’s struck with the realization that this won’t be the first time they’ll be separated, but it doesn’t magically dissipate his yearning. “Ya look very handsome tonight.”

Akaashi smiles, nothing like the person Osamu’d ever envisioned. “Thanks. I wanted to look good because my boyfriend was going to be here.”

“Darn, ‘n here I thought I could shoot my shot.” They’re getting closer, like they’re planets and their gravities are pulling them toward one another.

“Maybe you can try after, but I really like him. Don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.” Akaashi’s forehead comes to rest against his first, eyes fluttering closed. His eyelashes are incredibly voluminous.

“Keiji,” Osamu sighs, brain overtaken by white noise and static.

 _Ask him_ , his brain supplies. _Do it, do it, do it_ , it chants like a mantra.

“Osamu?”

It’s his turn to close his eyes; he feels Akaashi’s warm skin underneath his slacks through his fingertips, taps a few times to distract his nerves. There’s cotton in his mouth that prevents him from speaking and he hasn’t even had a drink of alcohol to help him out.

“Tell yer friend the last chapter was really good. The fight scene…” he trails off, nose grazing Keiji’s cheek. Their heads are angled where no one except the Shibuya crowd below can see them. “Was good.” His brain continues flying with thoughts. “Are we still good for our shrine visit tomorrow?”

Akaashi brings his hands to hold Osamu’s head then, normally cold fingers now warm as they press softly into his skin. “Hey,” it’s Keiji’s voice, soft and patient. Is his break down really that evident?

“What’s really on your mind?”

Licking his lips, all of Osamu’s senses catch up to him. He opens his eyes, comforted by the worry in Akaashi’s own.

“Move in with me?”

The question is simple, but it weighs so much that Osamu’s just glad he’s managed to voice it. “Um. Ya don’t hafta answer right now, can think about it more. Or, if ya’d prefer to jus’ say no—”

“Yeah, okay.”

Osamu blinks, stunned. It’s a few seconds before he’s opening his mouth again. “Come again?”

Akaashi has the audacity to _laugh_ at him as if Osamu’s anxiety hadn’t been eating at him all week, the entire time they’d been apart. “You asked to move in together, and I said okay.” Akaashi frowns, but the mirth is still dancing in his eyes. “Does Atsumu know you want to abandon him?”

Osamu closes the gap between them, Keiji’s chapped lips feeling like home despite their metallic taste. Keiji’s mouth is sweet, reminds him of all the foods in the jubako, and he really doesn’t care who can or can’t see them.

Osamu thinks about the dreams he’d wanted to chase down at the beginning of the year, thinks of all the goals he’d wanted to achieve this year that didn’t come to fruition. He thinks of all the things he hadn’t even imagined, thinks of how blessed he is to have Akaashi by his side like this. He thinks about how lucky he is to be surrounded by people who acknowledge who he is and love him, nonetheless.

Osamu breaks the kiss before he’s laughing and laughing, tears running down his cheeks. It’s the perfect excuse to forego an explanation on his tears. Keiji only seems mildly concerned with his outburst, elegant eyebrow raised.

“I couldn’t care less about Tsumu right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> AND SCENE. i'm not writing for another 3 years xoxo thanks everyone for reading. happy new year!


End file.
